


Diligence

by myworldisbiworld



Series: Sins & Virtues [6]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 17:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18266153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myworldisbiworld/pseuds/myworldisbiworld
Summary: Unable to face Holland Valley after her first run-in with John, Rook heads north and right into Jacob’s Chosen. But when Rook uses her old demons to break through his trial, Jacob decides to test her himself.Takes place after Gluttony and before Again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be updated alongside the story, mostly because I want to leave it open for myself.

As soon as she saw that it was Staci strapping her in, Rook knew she was fucked. She’d only been free of one Seed brother for two days before getting picked up by another.

“You shouldn’t have come for me. You should have run.”

Rook glared at him, then lurched forward in her seat and gave him a swift headbutt. The shock ruined her already blurry vision, everything fading to black for a few painful seconds. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears as her vision slowly returned, forehead and nose still stinging.

But damn, it felt good to get that out of her system.

Staci had retreated to the far wall, illuminated by a slide depicting a mangled deer. Blood streamed freely down his face and Rook knew she got him good in the nose, but it didn’t seem to have snapped him out of it. He still stood at attention, tear-filled eyes pointed straight forward.

_ Fuck _ . 

“This world is weak, soft.”

Rook shut her eyes, but she knew who was talking. Who else could it be?

As Jacob Seed continued to rant, she kept her eyes closed, trying to steady her breathing. Her own nose was bruised and clotted with blood, but it wasn’t broken. A little wheeze came out each time she exhaled, giving her something else to focus on as she tried to gather her wits. 

Her eyes snapped open when large, heavy hands settled over her bound wrists. At first, she was paralyzed by those icy blue eyes, and John’s face flashed in her mind. But then she took in the rest of him, and struggled to find any other resemblance. The man in front of her was far older… and far colder.

Jacob Seed smiled at her, but it had no warmth.

“This time,” he was saying, the light shifting over his rough face as the slides changed. “the lives of the few outweigh the lives of the many. And when a nation that’s never known hunger or desperation descends into madness, we’ll be ready.”

Rook was mentally screaming at him that there were plenty of Americans that know hunger and desperation, but she knew better than to say anything out loud. Instead, she settled for openly glaring at him.

He reached up, making her flinch back in surprise, and swept under her nose, gathering her warm blood on his thumb. Looking at it, he smiled, then stood up. Rook swallowed thickly as he reached for a music box on the table, her blood sliding across the worn wooden side. His eyes were on her as he began to crank the handle.

And then the madness came.

Rook screamed as the Bliss stars took over her vision, her ears ringing with that awful music box tune. Her mind scrambled to understand how such a tiny box could shriek, coherent thoughts shattering with each piercing note. Panic flooded her as her vision went black and the room, along with Jacob and Staci, disappeared. 

When her vision came back soaked in blood red colors, Rook launched up from her chair. A small voice in the back of her mind wondered where her bonds had gone, but she was already lunging for the handgun on the table. 

But where had the projector gone?

The two other captors were on their feet, already coming after her and leaving no time to think. Rook flinched as she pulled the trigger, her mind screaming at her to stop. But the gun felt so natural in her hands, so reassuring and safe and  _ powerful _ . Before anyone could blink, she’d tagged both opponents, only to see them vanish in a plume of smoke. Without stopping to think about the insanity of what she was seeing, she plowed ahead. 

_ Excellent _ , a voice rung out, reverberating in her chest. 

Something about that voice stopped her in her tracks. Her body pushed for her to keep moving, her heart slamming against her ribcage as if it could thrust her forward that way. Rook looked down at her hands, at the pistol that her bloody fingers gripped with a painful tightness. Everything burned, from her skin down to her bones, every inch screaming to  _ fight _ .

Panicking, she started running forward again, twisting and turning through hallways. She ran into someone--was that the American flag?--and went crashing to the ground. The person flailed underneath her, brandishing an assault rifle. The barrel caught the edge of Rook’s jaw, the gun going off a split second later. Rook’s ears rang with the shot, and then everything silent but her heartbeat. 

She screamed when a knife sliced across her thigh. Searing pain brought clarity, and though her vision was still blurred with red heat, she could piece together vague thoughts. Memories, she realized, thinking of Staci and his bloody nose, her burning face still sore. As blood trickled into her mouth, Rook grinned at the idea of finding a way out of this fucking hellscape.

Grabbing the gun from her opponent, she slammed the butt down to knock them out.

_ Sacrifice the weak _ , that cold, terrible voice said, shocking her body. 

Rook clenched her jaw shut to keep her teeth from chattering. She rolled off the stranger and tossed the rifle aside, her hands still shaking as she reached for her knife. 

As her clarity threatened to slip away, she dragged the knife across the gash again, stimulating her nerves but keeping the wound shallow. Rook growled through clenched teeth as pain bloomed anew.

“Okay, you twisted fuck,” Rook hissed as she stumbled to her feet, blood running down her leg and soaking her hands. She sheathed the knife and picked up the assault rifle. “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! No smut yet, sorry, but that is one of the goals of this fic. It shouldn't be too long, but if you're looking for an immediate filthfest, go check out "Again" in my Sins & Virtues series. 
> 
> If you want smut AND plot, then come take a seat and enjoy my madness. 
> 
> But, as always, mind the tags.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There's an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind."
> 
> \- Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam in Frank Herbert's "Dune"

Rook woke up sore, but oddly comfortable, and staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. Instead of the bloodied concrete floor she remembered collapsing on, she was lying on a simple but clean bed. Her hands had been treated and wrapped with bandages, fresh cuts still stinging with the bite of alcohol. There was a faint itchiness that tempted her to peel off the wrappings, but it reminded her that she was healing.

Someone had taken care of her.

But why?

Closing her eyes, she sat up with a soft groan, pulling herself up so she could lean against the wall with the pillow supporting her lower back.She made a quick mental list of her wounds and found that, short of the cuts on her thighs, she wasn’t in much worse condition than a hard day of training and fighting. The worst pain was a splitting headache pulsed between her temples, making it difficult to gather her thoughts. She could barely remember how she had gotten here, only snippets of screams and pain, the flickering sparkles of Bliss. 

“Y’know, Deputy,” drawled a low, cold voice. “If it were up to me, you’d have been dead already. But Joseph has other ideas.”

Rook looked up and found Jacob sitting in a chair at the foot of her bed, illuminated by the lone light overhead. He was slouched back in his seat, one leg swung up so one ankle rested on his other knee, idly toying with a knife in his lap.

“Guess it’s a good thing you’re a coward,” Rook rasped, her voice straining to get through her dry throat. The words were risky but she was too tired and angry to care.

The laugh that met her words was deep and hollow, almost desperate. Pity softened her heart--this was a broken man, just like John. A man who couldn’t find the answers he wanted, so he made them up on his own.

But she only had to clench her fists for that empathy to fade, feeling the phantom impact against flesh as she remembered fighting her way through that bloody maze. Her torn knuckles sent sharp complaints to her brain, pain she used to focus. 

“What’s going to happen now?” she asked grimly, realizing that Jacob was watching her intently. 

It would be hard to hide everything from that sharp gaze, but not impossible to hide a few things. This man liked to hear himself talk (seemed like that was a family trait) and Rook was gambling on that. She needed information if she had any hope of getting out of here in one piece. 

“Joseph wants to talk to you. And so you will.” Jacob set both booted feet down on the floor with a heavy thud, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. He pointed a thick finger at her and she saw that his knuckles were even more scarred than her own. It made her want to lick her lips. 

“But you and I are going to have a little chat first.”

“Thought John did the torturing,” she muttered, watching for his reaction to his brother’s name. But his stoic face betrayed nothing. 

“I'm not going to torture you, girl. Like I said, we’re going to have a little chat.”

She stared back at him, utterly defiant. He skimmed his eyes over her face before drifting down to linger at neck and breasts, and then her hands, resting in her lap. Rook anxiously curled her fingers in the sheets, feeling a tingle between her legs that she didn’t care for right now.

“Well, look at you. You’re something, aren’t you? Built for a good fight.”

Again, she stayed silent during his pause. This man wasn’t really interested in what she had to say, otherwise he’d ask her actual questions. He was just trying to draw out the tension and puff himself up, while being no good at handling silence. Less than a minute passed before he began to talk again. 

More ways he and John were the same. 

“For the first time in a while, I’m impressed. Most meat that comes through this place gets handed over to my Judges.” He gestured to his dangling dog tags, the movement of his body causing them to clink against his bunker key. “Did you serve, Deputy?” 

This time, she found the nerve to roll her eyes and scoff. 

“Then where did you train?”

Rook couldn’t help herself this time, proudly thrusting her scarred chin up. “Fucking place called the streets. Don’t need to go overseas to find someone who wants to kill you.” 

One bushy eyebrow rose in mild surprise and Jacob took a moment to process the information. Meanwhile, Rook settled in to the bed again, thinking hard. Since she wasn’t dead already, it seemed Jacob was being honest about Joseph wanting her alive. That was comforting, at least. 

But the fact that Joseph wasn’t here already worried her; it had to mean that Jacob didn’t tell him yet. That seemed like a quick way to anger The Father and earn his wrath, even as an older brother. 

So what did  _ Jacob _ want? What was worth pissing off Joseph?

Jacob was staring at her again, this time with the slightest of smiles. There was nothing polite or kind about his smile, nothing warm or inviting. But it was very feral.

Heat stirred in her lower belly, making her frown.  _ It couldn’t be… _

Jacob had his own sort of sexual appeal despite his haggard appearance. Most of all, that cold confidence was enough to make her skin tingle, reminding her of the monsters from her former life. The wild abandon of fucking someone who hated you, who could kill you without losing a wink of sleep over it... 

If it was true, he really was just like John. She almost smirked at that.

“You managed to get through the course with only two dead,” he stated, breaking her thoughts. “The others were well done, mostly non-lethal hits. That took quite the effort.”

Relief flashed through her, but it didn’t last. There was no guarantee that Jacob left them alive--he probably didn’t. She didn’t kill those people, but she hadn’t saved them, either. Rook could only cling to the bittersweet truth that  _ her _ hands weren’t as bloody as they could have been.

“You resisted the Bliss. Haven’t seen many people break through it like that.” 

Rook tried not to shiver, the mere mention of Bliss terrifying her. She wasn’t proud of  _ why _ she was resistant to the Bliss; she wasn’t overall immune, either. It always left her feeling drained and empty. Worst of all, each minute under the influence was one minute closer to an inevitable relapse. 

All information she did  _ not _ want this man to have.

Lucky for her, he was too busy hearing himself talk.

“And you resisted pain. You even did it to yourself, over and over and over again. And it got me thinking about why John took such a shine to you.”

That made her grin, even in the face of this monster. Unfortunately, Jacob also smiled, and his expression wilted her own. She let out a tense breath when he got up and opened the door just wide enough to speak through it.

“In.”

He stepped aside and Pratt came in, his head hanging low, his eyes avoiding Rook. Timidly, he took a seat in the chair that Jacob had left unoccupied.

“There are many types of pain,” Jacob began, standing behind Staci as both of them faced Rook. 

Her mouth set into a grim line, already guessing what was about to happen.

The Seed brothers sure had a lot in common, didn’t they?

Rook watched, stone-faced, as Jacob gave Staci a hard cuff on the back of the head. If she didn’t think the man was a broken mess already, she would now. All her co-worker did was hang his head and whimper softly, his hands folded meekly in his lap. It made her want to headbutt him again. But it also made her want to kill Jacob.

“You see, I’m not supposed kill you. No, Joseph wants to talk to you.” Jacob grabbed Staci’s hair and yanked it up, his eyes locked on Rook’s face. Those cold eyes darkened as his pupils went wide. “But  _ this _ one? I can kill this one. He's weak, it's his purpose. I can  _ hurt _ this one, and  _ you’ll _ feel it, won’t you?”

Rook curled her hands into fists and tensed her muscles, ready to spring.

“Ah, ah.” Jacob whipped out his pistol and put it to Staci’s skull. “Not so fast, hero.”

“Get to the fucking point,” Rook growled, leaning forward. 

Jacob stared at her, then put the gun away and straightened up. He cuffed Staci again, so offhandedly and casually that Rook hadn't expected it. 

“I’m not going to tie you down or lock you up. You’re going to behave like a good girl for me, all on your own.”

Rook had nothing to say.

Jacob backhanded Staci, this time with a loud crack. “Do I make myself clear?”

Rook hesitated, but nodded, biting her bottom lip, and hung her head. She wanted to scream at Staci to grow a spine and help her get the fuck out of here, and she wanted to scream at herself for letting someone else be used against her. 

_ Fuck _ , it was so hard to be a decent person. Again, all she had was bitter comfort, knowing once again, there was a little less blood on her hands, that she was  _ trying _ to do the right thing.

The knowledge did nothing for her this time.

One grunted word from Jacob was all it took for Staci to get out of the chair and leave the room, shutting the door solidly behind him. Rook couldn’t bring herself to watch him go.

“You need to remember your place before you get others hurt again,” Jacob murmured as he walked to the foot of her bed, his shadow creeping over the sheets. In his hands was the tiny music box that he’d used before she’d fallen into the red haze. Her blood was still smeared along the side.

_ Shit _ .

He smirked when her eyes widened.

“From what I hear, you  _ chose _ to fuck John,” he continued, turning the box in his scarred fingers. “And in that choice, you were able to corrupt him.”

Rook blinked. Was he fucking serious?

“...you want me to fuck you?”

Jacob stared at her, continuing to smirk.

“You guys  _ are _ fucking crazy,” Rook breathed, still struggling to comprehend the situation.

“I can throw you into a cage and you can watch as my Judges rip your Resistance apart. You can watch me drag out your friends, one by one, and listen to them beg before they start screaming. It’s never quick.” 

Jacob’s eyes dropped as he slid his hand under the sheet and gripped her ankle, his strong fingers curling around the joint easily. Rook rarely felt small or delicate, but the sheer mass of his hand seemed to do the trick.

“Or you can stay here and keep me occupied. Those little toy soldiers can stay in their cages and get two more days to live their miserable lives.” His eyes flicked back up to her. “And you can show me what makes you so special John nearly got himself killed.”

Rook’s mind whirled with the possibilities, while she could feel the heat building between her legs. The situation was reminding her of John, and she couldn’t deny her attraction to Jacob, either. He was a different kind of monster from John, but she had seen his kind before. 

He had his weaknesses, too. This wouldn't be an easy fight, she wouldn't win with fists alone.

Remembering this, she smiled, and said the one word she knew would get under his skin.

“ _ Yes _ .”


End file.
